When my phone pings late Thursday, my stomach flutters with excitement seeing it’s from David. I was so convinced he had dismissed me.

I open the text and read it twice. Hope you’re having a good week. Are you free this Sunday? There’s a music festival I want to take you to.

I squeal for more than one reason. For starters, David is asking me out again. For the second weekend in a row, although I’m a little disappointed I have to wait until Sunday. And secondly, I’d seen a lot of fanfare about this event, the Country Lake Shake, since it’s only a few blocks from where I live. At least I hope he’s talking about the one I’ve seen promoted because I’m a fan of so many of the singers who will be there!

But as soon as the thrill courses through me, I’m struck wondering why he waited for so long to ask me. Surely, the tickets were sold out by now especially given that many are chart-topping acts. He must have had the tickets for a while. Did he have plans to go with someone else, and they bailed, and now I’m just sloppy seconds?

Cut it out, I scold myself. You are not the girl you used to be. No one here knows your past. And David wouldn’t be asking you if he didn’t want to spend time with you.

I try and let my pep talk seep into my thoughts but only find moderate success. However, I message him back accepting the invitation despite my misgivings.

David texts me when he arrives on Sunday afternoon, and I rush down to the lobby. I almost don’t recognize him. His gorgeous brown eyes are hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, and he’s wearing all black. Black jeans, a black, snug-fitting, long-sleeved knit shirt with sleeves pushed up to his elbows, even black boots. He looks very ‘bad-ass.’ The giveaway is his floppy, sandy blond hair with its loose curls.

“Should I go change and wear all black, too?” I ask, suddenly nervous that my cherry red Bermuda shorts and white embroidered boho top that I’d bought with Lainey are too loud. I’d scrubbed the white rubber parts of my Converse knock-off sneakers so they wouldn’t look so ratty, making a note that I could now buy a real pair of Converse sneakers, but now I feel that they’re too bright.

“Nooo,” he says, shaking his head slowly. Even behind the dark sunglasses he was wearing, I can feel him looking me over. “You look fantastic.”

David takes my hand and leads me outside to a waiting taxi, and we’re off to the festival. I’m beyond thrilled when David tells me it actually is the Country Lake Shake. In no time at all, we’re driving through Museum Campus and onto Northerly Island where the Huntington Bank Pavilion is and where the three-day event is being held.

David pays the driver, and as we head to the gate to pick up our wristbands for the event, I spot a familiar face.

“Hey, isn’t that your friend, Chip?”

David looks up but doesn’t seem surprised to see the man.

“Well, look at that, what a small world,” he says, his teeth almost clenched.

“Do you suppose he’s going to the festival, too?” I ask while wondering if they’d had a fight over the boat. I hope not.

“I would say it’s more than likely.”

“We should ask him to join us,” I suggest. I still feel bad that he drove us to the marina last week to enjoy his boat and then we didn’t ask him to go out with us.

David looks at me for a brief moment before his face softens into an easy smile. “If that’s what you want. I’m sure he’d love it.”

He stops us in our path and turns to wait for Chip to catch up to us. Chip grins when we ask him to join us, and the three of us head into the crowd.

We spend a couple of hours or so wandering around the venue listening to the live bands performing on the main stage while we circle the massive park. There’s so much to see and do from something called a Vertigo Swing—which I’m not brave enough to go on—to tamer activities like Wiffle Ball where David impresses me with his batting skills. Conversely, I impress him with my line-dancing know-how at a booth called ‘Silent Disco Line Dancing’ where everyone wears headphones to hear the music and follows a lead dancer. Stopping at one of the vendors, David insists on buying me a bright red cowgirl hat to match my shorts. Conversation is tough, though, because, for one, the music is pretty loud, and secondly, David seems more reluctant to reveal anything about himself with Chip around. Is Chip in cahoots with David? Are they a con team?

I push all my doubts out of my head. We settle in to listen to some music, but eventually the food aromas get to us, and we head over to get something to eat. There’s so much to choose from—barbecue, burgers, and pizza. We settle on Chicago-style hot dogs and get in line.

“Hey, Chip. Want to go grab us some beers?” David suggests, tossing a thumb over his shoulder to a neighboring tent. I’m not sure if David really wants beer, or if he’s trying to get rid of Chip. “Oh, and water or Diet Coke for Talia,” he adds.

My heart swells with happiness that David remembered.

“You got it,” he says, and he heads over to the beer tent.

After standing in line for a few minutes, David and I place our order, and as we wait for our hot dogs to be prepared, David stands behind me and pulls me to him, my back is to his front, and he whispers, “You’re incredible.” His voice is low and gravelly at my ear. Despite the heat in the air and between our bodies, I shiver with desire. I’m rewarded as his lips fall to the curve where my neck meets my shoulders. A charge of excitement jolts through me, straight down my core and into my toes.

“Well, look who I found!” Chip says behind us, making me jump.

I turn to see Chip with an imposingly tall, very attractive man with a shock of red hair coupled with pale blue eyes.

“Jimmy!” David says, stepping toward Chip and Jimmy. The two shake hands, then pull each other in for a half hug, slapping one another on their backs.

Stepping back, David wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me forward.

“Jimmy, I’d like you to meet Talia Jameson. Talia, this is Jimmy Goodman, an old family friend.”

I extend my hand to shake his. He takes my hand but gently pulls me in for a nice hug. “You are just as lovely as David described,” he says. David clears his throat, and I don’t know what to say, surprised that David has talked to anyone about me. I’m feeling quite self-conscious, and my cheeks grow warm as I’m sure I’m blushing. “Sorry,” Mr. Goodman says, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” I assure him, then add, “And it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Goodman.”

My embarrassment is quickly shoved aside as David’s name is called out by the worker at the window. David grabs our tray, and the four of us head over to find a table to eat. David explains that Mr. Goodman works for his dad and has for the past twenty-five years.

“Twenty-two,” Mr. Goodman corrects. “Don’t go making me older than I am,” he adds with a wink.

“Enjoying the music?” Mr. Goodman asks, turning to me with a wide smile.

“I am,” I tell him.

“David tells me you’re a country music fan,” he replies. “Between you and me, we’ll convert this man yet,” he says with a nod toward David.

Mr. Goodman and Chip are both smart and funny, and I’m glad that they are with us. There’s something I can’t quite put my finger on, but Mr. Goodman makes me comfortable. What’s more, getting to know Chip, and now Mr. Goodman, I feel a little more assured that David is a good guy, not a con.

It appears that Mr. Goodman is quite the enthusiast, and he knows, as in personally knows, several of the musicians performing later today. Once we finish eating, the four of us grab a couple of these inflatable ‘sofas’ provided by the event to settle in and enjoy the band up next, one of my favorite artists, Chris Lane. As much as I’d like to sit up front, the crowd is overwhelming as is the volume, my ears already throbbing, so I ask if we can sit way far back out of the thick crowd which seems to make Chip relax, too.

When the song Let Me Love You comes on, a song about finding love, quietly, David takes my hand and weaves his fingers through mine. I try not to let my imagination run away with me, that David took my hand during such a touching song, but it’s certainly difficult not to. Looking at our hands, I admire how perfectly they fit together. His touch is soft and warm, strong and comforting. He rubs his thumb across the back of my hand, and it’s as if an electrical pulse courses through me. He’s so different from any other guy I’ve been out with. It’s as though David just enjoys every moment instead of plotting and planning to get me into his bed.

While there’s a break in the music as Chris Lane finishes, and Cole Swindell is getting ready to take the stage, off to the side, there’s a commotion. People are crowding around someone with excitement. Quietly, I stretch to see what it’s all about.

I catch a quick glimpse at who is in the center of the excitement and can’t believe who I am seeing.

“Oh my gosh!” I gasp. David turns to me, confusion on his face. “Isn’t that Chase Smythe?” I ask, pointing to the group.

I don’t know the names of many celebrities, but Chase Smythe is one I absolutely know, mostly because Heather had him plastered all over the walls of her bedroom.

“What do you say we get out of here?” David asks, suddenly not as relaxed as he’d been. “We could head to… my place? It’s quiet there.” Crap. Maybe he is trying to get me to bed. Do I mind, though? If I’m honest, no, I don’t. Who wouldn’t want to be with a guy like David? He’s gorgeous and polite. He has nice friends. But I also don’t want to ruin what we have going on. I promised myself I wasn’t going to be the girl who jumps right into bed anymore.

“I promise, I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” he says when I don’t answer right away. “It’s just not easy to talk here. Too loud. Too many people.”

“That sounds great,” I finally answer, much to his apparent relief.

“Hey, Chip,” David calls out.

Chip is standing next to David in two strides. “Yeah, boss?”

“Boss, haha,” David responds nervously. “Talia and I are gonna head to my place.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he answers, pulling his keys out of his pocket. “Did you want to go now?”

“Ah, you don’t mind if I… um… borrow your car?”

Hesitantly, Chip asks, “You sure? I can drive you. It’s no problem.”

I find it funny that Chip wants to drive. He must really love his car not to let others drive it. In fact, David hasn’t driven since I’ve met him. He was on foot when we met after the aquarium. I just figured his car was parked somewhere else. We took a cab to dinner. Chip drove us to and from the marina. A few times while Chip was talking, he’d mention something about him driving David somewhere. I can’t help but wonder if David drives at all. Does he have a license? Has he lost his license for some reason?

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” Chip hands the keys to David, then David and I make a quick round saying goodbye to everyone.

As we exit the park, I can’t help but ask David the looming question. “So, does Chip drive you everywhere? You are allowed to drive, right? Or is Chip just really careful with his car?”

David laughs good-naturedly. “Yes. I have a valid license. And I do drive a lot. Chip likes to drive?” He seems to be asking me, but then he sighs. “That’s not completely honest of me,” he says on an exhale. “Chip actually works for… my family. And he’s kinda my… um… Wow, this is embarrassing. He’s my… driver?”

“Oh,” is all I can say. I’ve never known someone with a driver before. And why would he need one? And why is embarrassing? I knew he was hiding something. Is this his big secret?

“I should have been upfront with you from the start. See, I’m usually on the phone or on my way to a business meeting, and this way I can either get my notes together, or take a phone call, and not be driving while I’m doing either.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” I say feeling better. I know more than a couple of people who have lost their driving privileges due to a DUI, my mother for one, and am relieved that this is not the case with David.

“Wait,” I ask, realizing we’ve stranded Chip at the park. “How will Chip get home if you have his car?”

“Either Jimmy will give him a lift, or he can grab a cab,” David answers nonchalantly.

As I start to drive Talia and me north on Lake Shore Drive to my condo, I smile recalling Jimmy’s words to me as we said goodbye.

“She’s a keeper. Got a good feeling about her.”

Jimmy is the shrewdest of all my family and close friends. If he has a good feeling, I trust that.

Talia is different. She’s kind and smart and makes me feel real, like a person, not an object or a bank account.

I just have to figure out a way to come clean without ruining everything. I started today with the fact that Chip is my driver. True, I should have told her that he was also my bodyguard, something my dad insisted on with the ever growing and invasive paparazzi who were more aggressive than a great white shark with a seal.

She doesn’t trust me because I can tell she’s still holding back. What are her secrets? Something tells me she has a dark one or two, but for whatever reason, I trust her.